


Swamped

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [59]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Ianto misses his magic, M/M, Panic, Suicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29708958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: Jack was right that Ianto wasn't going to fall apart until he felt safe enough.  And Owen was right that Iantowouldfall apart.Ianto misses his magic terribly, and becomes convinced that because he has been forbidden to use it, he is going to die, unable to defend himself or - worse still - someone else might be hurt.  Jack is worried and confused as Ianto's panic and despair consume him.But while he may not understand the real problem, he knows enough to offer comfort.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: Niffler [59]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1276304
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20





	Swamped

When they reached the bedroom, Ianto hesitated for a moment. 

Jack looked from Ianto to the bed, which the younger man was staring at in consternation. “What?”

“I thought I put the blue sheets on, before the trip to the Beacons.”

Jack chuckled. “You did. Tosh and Owen changed the sheets for you before they left the other morning.”

“Oh,” Ianto looked at Jack, relieved. His lips twitched in a smile. “For a moment I was a little worried.”

“Head injuries will do that to you,” Jack quipped.

Ianto stepped slowly to the dresser. He was moving better than he had been, but Jack could tell that the pain meds were still barely keeping up. “I have to confess,” Ianto said, pulling out a pair of pyjama bottoms and a soft t-shirt, “I don’t normally wear pyjamas.”

“Really?” Jack’s voice dipped an octave.

“Down, boy,” Ianto chuckled, but he hissed and winced as his arm quickly wrapped protectively around his mid-section.

Jack left the room and grabbed one of Ianto’s water bottles and a couple of pain killers that Owen had left. He noticed from how many pills were still in the bottle that Ianto was not using them as prescribed. He shook his head in annoyance and headed back to the bedroom. “You know, you’ll heal better if you take the meds like you’re supposed to,” he said, handing the pills to Ianto and unscrewing the cap on the water bottle.

Ianto swallowed the pills and nodded. “I know, but they just make me feel so out of it. It’s been manageable.”

“I get it, but the way these things work is that they build up in your system. I know it sucks, but try to take them the way Owen told you to. That way you won’t get caught out if you pull something or miss a dose.”

Ianto nodded. He had managed to get his pyjama bottoms on while Jack was gone. Now he unzipped the hoodie he’d been wearing and shrugged out of it. Jack winced sympathetically as Ianto’s bruises came into view. The younger man looked dubiously at the t-shirt for a long moment, causing Jack to huff.

“You know, I _am_ capable of behaving,” he said good-naturedly, taking the t-shirt from Ianto and putting it back in the drawer. He then shed his own clothes and draped them over the chair in the far corner. He left his boxer briefs on and turned down the bed.

“I know,” Ianto grinned. “But sometimes I’m not.”

It took all of Jack’s willpower not to attack Ianto, then and there. And the damnable Welsh-skinned demon of sin and temptation knew it, if the slight widening of that devilish grin was any indication.

The smile dropped from his face as he lowered himself carefully onto the bed. Jack was immediately by his side. “Let me help,” he murmured, easing Ianto down onto the pillows. He could tell from the wince that Ianto would not be able to sleep on his back, though. “Right side, or left?” he asked, and then helped Ianto to lie on his right side.

He circled the bed and climbed in, facing the younger man. For a moment, he was struck by how _nice_ it would be, to have a flat, a bedroom, a bed, a _Ianto_ in bed with him. There were times when distinctly domestic circumstances managed to hold a certain appeal, despite his claims to the contrary.

Though Ianto was healing well, at the moment he was pale from fatigue and pain. His eyes were closed, a small frown marring his forehead as he caught his breath. Jack reached out and passed his thumb gently over the frown, and it smoothed as Ianto opened his eyes. He reached out and cupped Jack’s cheek, pulling him close for a quick kiss. “Thank you,” he breathed, his eyes drooping.

“Goodnight, Ianto,” Jack murmured. He reached over Ianto and turned out the light. As he settled onto his back, he heard Ianto’s breathing speed up. He felt Ianto flail, his hand blindly landing in the middle of his chest. 

“Jack?” he whispered, his voice sounding strained.

Jack wanted to kick himself. This was the first darkened room Ianto had been in, since the cannibals’ cellar. Every other night had been spent in his chair, in front of the fire. Little wonder that turning the light off without warning had startled him.

Jack reached out with his right hand and clasped Ianto’s, then moved closer to the younger man, raising his left arm. “C’mere,” he muttered, his voice low and inviting.

He heard Ianto hiss in discomfort as he scooched closer, tucking himself against Jack’s side and resting his head on Jack’s chest. He likely did not realize how hard he was squeezing Jack’s hand as he settled against him. 

Jack frowned as he noticed how long it took for Ianto’s breath to even out, again. “Okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Ianto breathed into Jack’s skin, his voice tight with pain. “Just need some sleep.”

“Okay,” Jack kissed the top of Ianto’s head, and eventually the tension drained from the younger man’s body. Soon after, they both drifted off.

***

Ianto nuzzled into the soft skin pillowing his face, savoring the scent as he slowly wakened. He was blessed with several seconds of peace before being reminded in no uncertain terms of the pain associated with contusions, cracked ribs, and concussion. He let out a soft moan and felt a warm hand moving up and down his arm. 

“You all right there?” Jack asked. He was mildly shocked by how soundly he had been sleeping before he felt Ianto begin to stir.

Ianto lifted his head slightly and managed to pry open his eyes to look up at Jack. “Morning,” he croaked.

Jack recognized the pain in the unfocused gaze cast in his direction. “Shit.” He looked over at the clock and gave a start as he realized how long they had slept. It had been more than nine hours since Ianto’s last dose of pain medication. At least two missed doses.

“Gods, Ianto, I’m so sorry. I should have set an alarm to keep on top of your meds,” Jack said regretfully. He began moving slowly. “Let me go get you some.”

A hand on his chest stayed him, for the moment. Ianto screwed his eyes shut and shifted – in the night, he had somehow managed to drape a good portion of his body over Jack’s. It occurred to him that this particular tidbit of information would be quite gratifying, once the younger man’s pain was managed.

Ianto had gone pale, a sheen of sweat making his skin glow in the morning light. He was taking shallow breaths, his eyes screwed shut and his jaw locked tight. Jack was suddenly worried that Ianto would pass out.

“Stay there,” Jack ordered, clambering out of the bed.

“Can’t,” Ianto replied, rolling onto his back with a groan. “Need the toilet.”

Jack came around the bed to help Ianto sit up. Despite his best effort to be gentle, Ianto was soaked with sweat and trembling with pain by the time he was upright. Jack was convinced that the only reason he had not cried out was because he didn’t want to worry Jack.

Ianto walked on shaky legs to the bathroom, with Jack placing a hand on his elbow to steady him. Jack continued on to the kitchen. He grabbed water and pills for Ianto, and then waited outside the bathroom door, listening to the younger man brush his teeth. When he emerged, Jack followed him back to the bedroom and helped him to sit back down on the bed. 

He handed Ianto the pills and water, quickly dressed, and excused himself to use the bathroom, as well. He smiled as he saw that Ianto had set out a spare toothbrush for him to use. When he emerged from the bathroom, he saw that Ianto had dropped the water to the floor and was just sitting there, staring at nothing.

“Ianto.” Jack recognized that look. Whatever Ianto was seeing, it was dark. “Hey.” He knelt down in front of Ianto, whose expression was tragic.

“I’m going to die, Jack.”

“No, Ianto, you’re safe.” Jack reached out and ran a hand down Ianto’s arm. Ianto was trembling.

“This time, maybe. But I can’t be me,” Ianto looked desperate. “And one of these times, it’s going to kill me.” His breath was coming in shallow gasps.

“Slow down, Ianto.” Jack frowned. “What do you mean?”

“If I could have been me, we would have been safe,” he cried, becoming more agitated. “But I can’t. And it’s going to get me killed.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter, though. What really scares me is the thought of who else will be hurt, because of it.” He was close to hyperventilating, now.

“Ianto, breathe.” Jack stood up and moved to sit beside him. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want to die not being me, Jack,” Ianto turned tear-filled eyes to Jack. “And I’m not all that thrilled about living, not being me.”

Jack pulled Ianto into his arms. All he could think was that the pain and perhaps a flashback were causing these strange words. “Try to breathe with me,”

“I can’t do this, Jack,” Ianto cried. He sobbed against Jack’s shoulder, and the older man winced, knowing that this panic attack was surely agony for Ianto. “What if someone is hurt, because of me?” He was growing more frantic. Jack reached for his phone, grateful he had left it on the bedside table. He quickly texted Owen.

“Ianto, everyone is safe. You’re safe.”

“Who am I, Jack? I just don’t know, anymore. I miss being me. Who am I supposed to be, if I can’t be me? I don’t understand, Jack. I don’t understand. I… It hurts, _so much_. Why?”

Jack was holding onto Ianto, who was weeping and becoming more agitated as his body shook violently. He kept asking “Why?” and all Jack could do was hold him.

And then all of a sudden, Ianto went still in Jack’s arms. It was an eerie calm that made the hairs on the back of Jack’s neck stand on end as his stomach knotted itself. Ianto leaned back and looked at Jack. His eyes were wide and dark, and his pupils were still dilated to different sizes. 

Ianto took Jack’s hands in his and whispered, “Please help me, Captain. I wouldn’t be breaking a promise, if you helped me,” he muttered darkly.

Jack blinked away his own tears. “Yes, you would. I am here to help you live, Ianto. Not die.”

“But I’m going to die, Jack. And I’m so tired of waiting for it to happen horribly. Why shouldn’t it be my choice? Why shouldn’t I want it to not be awful?” 

“Ianto…” Jack was at a loss. He just ran his hands up and down the younger man’s arms, trying to soothe him.

Ianto stared into Jack’s eyes for a few moments, then slumped, nodding. “I understand, Sir.”

“What do you understand?” Jack knew he was not going to like the answer.

“My punishment,” Ianto replied wearily. Disregarding his pain, he lay down, facing away from Jack, curled up as tight as he could, and wept, his silent sobs shaking the bed.

Before Jack could reply, he heard a knock at the door. He rushed to answer, opening it to Owen.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know. He slept the whole night, but missed a dose or two of pain meds. He was in a lot of pain when he woke, but he was moving around. Used the toilet, brushed his teeth. I only left him for a moment, but when I returned he seemed to be having some sort of panic attack. He’s…” Jack trailed off as they entered the bedroom.

“Shit, Jack,” Owen muttered, seeing Ianto. “This is what I was worried about.” He went around the bed and set down his kit, looking at Ianto. The tears had stopped, and he seemed to have gone catatonic, staring at nothing.

“Ianto, I’m going to put in an IV line and give you something to help you sleep for a while. It should help with the pain and the panic. Can you give me one of your hands?”

Ianto blinked, then his eyes flew wide. “Owen!” he exclaimed. “You’ll help me, won’t you? You don’t even like me, so you won’t care. Please…”

Owen shushed him, feeling ill. “Yeah, I’ll help you, Tea Boy. Give me an arm, and I’ll start a line, and we’ll get this sorted out for you.” He added what he hoped would look like a conspiratorial wink, then sent a sad look in Jack’s direction.

Ianto settled a bit, offering his right arm, which Owen thought was strange, since he was lying on his right side. He shrugged and quickly started the IV line, thankful that Ianto was no longer dehydrated. Once the fluids were flowing into the younger man’s arm, he pulled out the phial containing the drug he had synthesized. It was the same one he had administered before, the last time Ianto had begged them for death. 

Once injected, they would have a few minutes before Ianto slid into a sleep so deep it would in many ways mimic a coma. But it was not so deep that his body would not continue its healing processes. Perhaps it would be for the best, for Ianto to sleep through the worst of the pain, at this point. Owen could tell that the panic attack had taken a heavy toll.

“We won’t be able to leave him alone,” Owen muttered, wondering how they would manage, with the upswing in rift activity that Toshiko was predicting.

As if in reply, there was a knock at the door. Jack went to answer, and was surprised (and yet not) to see Ianto’s two pale-haired friends. “Hello,” he said.

“How is he?” Luna asked, uncharacteristically ignoring the social niceties. For her part, she had felt something shift with Ianto. She couldn’t tell what, but she knew it was nothing good.

“You know what happened, then?” Jack asked. He shook his head. Of course they knew. After all, they didn’t usually bring dinners to Ianto, under normal circumstances.

“He called us to tell us,” Draco nodded. He gave a huff. “What I don’t understand is how he got beaten to a pulp by the cannibals on the news.”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Jack replied, feeling a stab of guilt, once again. “We’d gone out to the country for team building.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Luna reached out and gave Jack’s arm a squeeze.

“No, certainly not,” Draco added. “That was more a rhetorical question, really.”

“Thanks,” Jack replied. Then an idea formed. “Can either of you help watch over him, the next 48 hours or so?”

“Why?” Draco frowned. When he had last checked on Ianto, his friend was healing nicely.

“Owen’s giving him the stuff that will knock him out, for a few days,” Jack said. He looked incredibly sad before managing to mask his expression. At their startled looks, he sighed. “He had a panic attack.” Jack hesitated, running a hand through his hair.

“We’ll watch over him, but it would be helpful for us to know what he said,” Luna said. Her hand was on Jack’s arm, again.

In as much detail as he could manage, and leaving out the bits about Torchwood, Jack described Ianto’s strange declarations during the panic attack. When he was done, he let out a shaky breath. “Typical Ianto. What really scares him is if someone else is hurt, because he can’t be himself. And what does that even mean?”

Draco and Luna fought to keep their faces from showing their horror. They knew precisely what was haunting their friend, and were deeply disturbed to realize just how desperate he felt, cut off from his magic.

“We’ll help,” Luna regained her voice, first.

They entered the bedroom to find that Owen had helped Ianto get under the covers and turn onto his left side. His bruises were still horrific, and he was staring miserably at nothing. Luna let Draco go ahead as she attempted to stifle the sob that she could not prevent from rising in her throat.

Jack sat on the bed beside Ianto and ran a hand gently through the younger man’s hair. “Hey,” he said, his voice pitched low.

“Hey,” Ianto croaked. He squeezed his eyes shut. “’m sorry,” he sniffed.

“No need to apologize, Ianto. But can you tell me what that was about?”

“Just overwhelmed,” Ianto muttered, his words beginning to slur. “Flashes of memory, and too much pain. You were right about the meds.”

“Hey, the three of us’ve had a half dozen meltdowns, between us, back at the hub,” Owen spoke up. “You were due for one of your own.”

Ianto’s lip twitched in an attempt at a smile. “m’not speaking to you, Owen.”

“You need to work on your technique there, mate.”

“You lied to me, didn’t you?”

“Goddamn right, I did,” Owen snorted unapologetically. “And someday, you’ll thank me.”

“So you all keep saying,” Ianto closed his eyes, exhausted.

***

Ianto woke two days later. It was late afternoon, and Luna was sitting there, holding his hand, waiting patiently for him to waken. He took a deep breath and was surprised that while it was quite still painful, it was no longer excruciating.

“Hey,” he rasped.

She reached for a glass of water on the bedside table and helped him to drink. “How do you feel?”

He thought for a moment, checking in with his body. The pain was still severe, but no longer overwhelming. “Better.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “How much trouble am I in?”

Luna frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t remember what I said during that panic attack, but it was all about not having my magic.”

She smiled sadly. “Don’t worry. He didn’t understand what you were talking about. You were pretty cryptic, upset about not being able to be yourself.”

He closed his eyes, nodding.

“Do,” she sighed and ran a hand gently through his hair. “Do you really feel that way?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he looked down, but she didn’t miss the tears he had to blink away.

“It does matter,” she argued.

“It can’t, though,” he looked at her, and she hated the pain she saw in his eyes. “Because they’re never going to let me carry my wand, or use my magic, are they?”

In that moment, she wished to everything that she found holy that Ianto could just _remember_. She was truly frightened that this limbo would destroy him. She sighed and turned the conversation, and eventually helped him up so he could take Owen’s pain medication.

He was weak, but he managed to shower and dress. He sat on his sofa with Luna and they watched a movie as she fed him. By the time the movie was over, Jack had arrived.

After a normal night’s sleep, interrupted only long enough mid-way through for Ianto to swallow a couple of pain pills, he was himself again. Jack watched him closely to be sure it wasn’t just another mask, but he was reassured by Ianto’s improving mood that the younger man had regained his equilibrium. 

He did ask Ianto what the things he had said during the panic attack meant, but he managed to convince Jack that he’d been out of his head and had been spouting nonsense. “I don’t remember what I said, really,” Ianto confessed, and it was true. Luna had told him, of course, but he had no recollection of the words. “I only remember the pain, and the fear, and the sorrow.”

He was surprised at his honesty, but he didn’t feel there was any risk in being honest with Jack, at this point. He did have a prickle of regret at allowing Jack to think that the fear was to do with the cannibals, and not his feelings of helplessness. And Jack seemed to interpret Ianto’s mention of sorrow as referring to his still all too fresh grief, so he chose not to press, at the moment.

They enjoyed a quiet morning together, and Jack cooked breakfast for him before leaving for work. Luna and Draco dropped by to check in, both pleased that he was feeling more himself. The pain was finally abating, and his mood had steadily improved, as time passed.

Ianto was not embarrassed about the panic attack, or what he’d said during it. It was all true enough. He only wished he had not worried Jack, or spoken to Owen as he had. And he was sorry that Luna and Draco knew how he felt. He didn’t want to burden anyone else with his problems. But as the pain eased, the fear began to subside. The sorrow would always be there – he would never _not_ miss his magic. But it was no longer overwhelming him.

He was not surprised that Jack was watching over him, almost obsessively. What was pleasantly unexpected was that they continued to share his bed each night. Jack had even let slip that it had been a very long time since he had slept so well. That pleased Ianto more than he would have liked, but he was not going to allow any good thing to pass him by, at the moment. 

And this was good. 

It felt right.

***

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot believe it's been more than a year since I've added to this 'verse! And what a strange year it's been. I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe and healthy!
> 
> In an attempt to persuade the words to flow again, I am posting my buffer chapter. I do well under pressure and with a deadline, so let's see if that gets things moving, again! Wish me luck...
> 
> Thanks for reading! Proofing this one had me teary - would love to hear what you think!


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